


How NOT to Summon a Golem

by QueenOfPlotTwists



Series: 31 Day Yu-Gi-October Halloween Challenge [7]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Darkshipping if you squint - Freeform, Golems, Gruesome ingredients, M/M, Male Witches, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Summoning, Witchcraft, atem is a witch, ressurection, spell gone wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26877292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfPlotTwists/pseuds/QueenOfPlotTwists
Summary: Atem Adrian Sennen, the ambitious and most promising young witch in his family decides to prove himself by creating a Golem to do his bidding! And it works! Except for one thing...it's not a golem he summons, but a man! An impressively NAKED man with a shock of white hair and a VERY nice smile...Day 7 of 31 Day Y-G-October/Halloween Prompt ChallengePrompt 13: Disgust
Relationships: Yami Bakura/Yami Yuugi
Series: 31 Day Yu-Gi-October Halloween Challenge [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947991
Kudos: 3





	How NOT to Summon a Golem

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been in my head ever since I listened to a story about a witch summoning a doll, but I didn't like the idea of a "doll" coming to life so i played around with it until this is what I came up with.
> 
> The prompt actually gave me the idea of Atem freaking out at handling all the "gruesome" ingredients...
> 
> Day 7 of 31 Day Y-G-October/Halloween Prompt Challenge
> 
> Prompt 13: Disgust

How _Not_ To Summon a Golem

Atem sat on the floor with the half rotted antiquarian tomb on his lap and double checked the ingredients splayed out before him: fresh clay, a silver bowl of water left to absorb full moonlight, a handful of ashes, a bowl of grave soil, blood cutesy of his contact at the blood bank, linen wrapped bones custody of Marik (probably a servant destined for storage according to him) a portable CD player, and—the most gruesome—a human heart and tongue (he still owed Ryou a full box of his favorite raspberry filled cream puffs for that one).

It seemed a little extravagant for a golem? He thought not for the first time as he mixed the blood and drew a pentagram in the soil, lit the candles, then mixed together the water, clay, ashes and grave soil until it formed a stick paste.

But Atem was determined and he’d double checked the instructions several times over the course of this ritual. It was his first time creating a golem and he was eager to try it, and like all his magical learnings he was determined to do it right. True, Mahad would’ve had him wait until he and Isis had returned from Egypt but Atem was never known for his patience. He’d skipped too grades of magic study because he was tired of waiting for his older brother to deem him “ready” and had simply gotten what he’d needed from books instead.

Practice had, of course, required more discipline but he has mastered that as well through trial and error, reserving only the most difficult—and dangerous—of spells for later. He may have been impatient, but Atem Adrian Sennen, third born son and youngest of the coven was _not_ reckless.

And he always followed instructions to the later.

Laying out the linen wrapped bones as best he could he took the ash-clay-soil mixture and slathered it all over them the best he could and when he rang out he gathered the extra he brought just in case until the entire skeleton was covered and a semi-humanoid corpse now lay in the center of the pentagram.

Now came the hard part.

He pulled on the disposable plastic gloves Ryou have him and carefully lifted the heart out of the cooler and tried very hard not to look at it as he place it on the mud/ash/soil/bone doll’s chest.

He visibly shuddered and grimaced feeling the heat of the blood even through the gloves.

The tongue was next.

It wasn’t as thick and pulsating as the heart but it was none the less thick and slimy and flopped grossly about when he place it down the force time, forcing him to catch it and reposition it.

Atem swore he felt it flop as if mocking him when he forced it into the skeleton skull’s mouth.

Atem reeled back in disgust, ignoring the pain in his rump when he landed. Shaking, shuddering and flaying his hands around until he finally got the gloves off and chucked them into the corner and lathered them in enough hand sanitizer to kill a small animal. How Ryou could stand being a mortician, Atem would never know.

“Okay,” He pepped talked himself and lifted the enormous tomb into his arms. “Pentagram drawn in a circle. Check. Doll body made of bones and other such ingredients, check. Heart and tongue in place,” He shuddered again, grimacing. “Check. Alright, all I need is the rest of the grave soil.”

He proceeded to dump the rest of the bucket over the make-shift corpse and not for the first time, Atem wondered what his golem would look like. Most likely, very humanoid given all these ingredients. All he was missing was “essence of man”—that one he had _no_ intention of getting a hold of. He had no interest in one-night stands. He would keep his sexual relationships private, thank you very much.

“Alright,” Atem set the book down, turned the volume of the old school boom box style CD played on max and pressed play—the extra sound providing the boost the Spell needed.

He picked up the book again and started the chant, the refrain echoing in the background first low, then growing in sound like an approaching thunderstorm.

Then he began to chant: “Surge Sursus! Surge Sursus! Surge Sursus! Surge Sursus!”

He chanted, the refrain on the boom box blasting behind him, an ominous chorus of thunder clasping voices demanding the body beneath him rise and come alive.

The soil began to move as if the ground was shaking.

Small at first, then small tremors began to appear. Fingers tapping, flexing. A hand clenching in a fist. An arm moving.

Yes...yes...YES! It was working!

It was _fucking_ working!

Take _that_ Mahado!

Atem continue the chant with a new vigorous fervor. An impassioned exuberance, an excitement that bordered upon religious zeal, Atem continues his chant!

“Surge Sursus! Surge Sursus! SURGE SURSUS!”

The makeshift ground suddenly exploded. With a gasp that it should not have been able to take the creature rose from the floor. Arms sprawled out in victorious triumph, back arched as if in rapture, muscles in his legs tense with the strain of standing. Burnt ocher skin pulled right over corded muscles, arms and legs and chest firm from a life time of exertion and exercise.

 _Human_ skin. _Human_ muscles.

It flexed it’s fingers as if uncertain what they were and then it’s eyes, _human_ eyes, almonds shaped and a sort of lilac-gray twilight color widened with recognition. _Human_ lips and teeth pulled back in a shark’s smile of victorious glee. Then it through its head back in loud, roarously triumphant laughter.

It shouldn’t be able to laugh. It shouldn’t even be able to _breathe_. It shouldn’t _need_ to breathe.

What the fuck was going on!

Pearls of victorious laughter echoed mockingly in Atem’s ears and then it did the one thing Atem knew, _knew_ , no golem should be able to do until it was taught and given the proper spell.

It _talked_.

“Oh man! Does it feel good to stretch! Ha!” Cracking a kink in its neck, stretching its arms long and wide over its head in a triangle then outward like spread wings. Then it bent forward, bending knees and long shapely legs, revealing in shameless unabashedness just how _not_ a golem it was, but a _human_.

A _male_ human.

A _naked_ male human.

An _impressively_ naked male human, Atem noticed, and blushed, gripping the book so tight his knuckles pinched his skin.

An impressively naked male human with a nicely toned chest, firm arms, muscled legs, magnificent burnt ocher skin, smoky violet eyes and a long curtain of wild hair white and wild as a winter storm and a slick shark toothed smile that set all of Atem’s teenaged hormones on haywire— _especially_ when he looked further south.

He was definitely _not_ a golem.

The man, not-golem stepped out of the pentagram, shook himself off and brushed the dirt from his skin and through back his long, spiky hair. Ran a hand through his forelock so the rigid bangs spiked up like bat wings.

He turned to Atem then, still shaking in shock, still gripping the tome so tight it was a miracle it didn’t fall apart. Fixed him with his smoky-violet eyes, smiled a smile that showed teeth and fangs and curled at the corners. Leaned closer.

Like a wolf circling a rabbit. Like a cat with a mouse or a bowl of cream. Like a snake paralyzing a bird—like he wanted nothing more than to devour him and would make sure Atem enjoyed every single minute of it.

“You must be the necromancer who summoned me,” the rolled off his tongue molten brass sounds that curled together in a deep, guttural rasp. “Seems I owe you, a debt of gratitude.”

His long fingers curled under Atem’s chin and from this angle he could make out all the lines of the man’s face: the sharp point of his chin, the chiseled curves of is cheekbones, the slender arch of his brows, the hawk-like point of his nose, the faded white cross-like scars beneath his left eyes, and Oh God, if this man wasn’t beautiful. Atem’s face burned. His heart hammered and grew louder as the man leaned closer.

Then stopped dead when his lips were a whisper’s breath from his own.

A warm hand cupped his face forcing Atem’s crimson eyes to meet his and oh, God, if it wasn’t like the world was spinning, and the musky spell of him didn’t send a shiver up Atem’s spine.

“I think I know how to start...” Those lips leaned in to claim his own.

With the last of his dignity, Atem pulled up the book. The massive tone smacking the undead man/not-golem/whoever the fuck he was right in his gorgeously handsome face and kcrushing his proud nose.

“What the fuck?” He snapped angrily, the words muffled by him holding his nose.

“That’s what I wanna know!” Atem retorted, crushing the enormous book to his chest, struggling to hold it with one arm, and pointed at the stranger who screwed up his spell. “You were supposed to be a golem!”

The man arched a single, confused, and aggravated brow.

Atem remained steadfast, and readjusted the book in his arm before it crashed to the floor. “I tried to summon a golem! You were supposed to be a golem! You are clearly not a golem!” Atem snapped back, furious and frustrated an indignant all at once.

The man gave him a look then smirked gesturing to his gorgeous naked flesh entire. “Obviously.”

Atem ignored him (and fought down the heat he _knew_ was staining his cheeks) and checked the book again, scanning the directions, the ingredients.

“It makes no sense, I did everything right, the ingredients, the set-up, the incantation. It says so right here, how to summon a go—”

Atem froze. Sucked in a breath. His eyes bulged out of his skull then shrank in horror as he read the _title_ of the spell he’d just cast. The spell to summon a golem was on the _left_ page of the tomb. On the _right_ side, the spell he’d just cast read _How to Resurrect the Dead_.

With shaking hands and terrified slowness, he dragged town the book, found the man grinning at him like hungry snake.

Oh….

_Fuck._

__

**Author's Note:**

> Three guess who? ;)
> 
> Disclaimer: I am not a Wiccan, Neo-Pagan or any of the above and this particular ritual did not come from any particular culture, religion or whatever. It was entirely made up, but I do admit that one of my girlfriends is obsessed with AHS: Coven so that's where SOME of the craziness comes from, but ultimately I wanted to write Atem as an ambitious young witch who performs his spells perfectly only to realize at the last second he cast the WRONG spell perfectly...  
> This was fun!


End file.
